


Witching Hour

by rainier_day



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode 26 happened, Gen, Haunting, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 08:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21250580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainier_day/pseuds/rainier_day
Summary: “Well? Where else can we go?”“How about up there?” Caduceus suggests, pointing toward a hill.They follow his finger to find a large structure looming in the distance.





	Witching Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: horror and spooky shit and that kind of stuff

The rain and snow come out of nowhere that evening, and within minutes, they’re drenched and the dirt on the ground has dampened to thick, partially frozen mud. With her arms wrapped around herself, Beau shivers, her wet robes clinging to her slim form. “Hey, this is bad going. Let’s just stop for the night. Caleb, do your dome thing,” she says through chattering teeth.

Not faring any better, he brushes the hair out of his eyes and notes how numb his fingers have become. But glancing down at the condition of the ground, he shakes his head. “My dome will shield us from above but not from below. If we try to sleep on this ground, you and I and perhaps Nott, we are not as well built for the cold as the rest of the group, we may well succumb to the cold.”

Beau scowls, huddling closer to Jester, who gives her the rod of warmth to hold. “Well? Where else can we go?”

“How about up there?” Caduceus suggests, pointing toward a hill.

They follow his finger to find a large structure looming in the distance. Fjord immediately frowns. “I don’t like the look of that place.”

“Yeah, I’ve read enough stories to know that big hilltop mansions are the last place you want to be during a storm,” Beau chimes in.

Jester frowns, reaching out to rub the monk’s arms in an attempt to help warm her up. “But you’re freezing, Beau! And Caleb and Nott are shaking too! Maybe they’re super cool and have food and a fire or something! Besides, if it’s haunted and stuff, me and Caduceus can scare away anything bad!”

Claws dig into his pant leg and he looks down to see Nott trembling and frowns. The chill is soaking through his coat as well and burrowing down to his bones. “It cannot be worse than this. I can raise my dome in the house if need be. A rotting floor would still be better than sleeping in slush.”

“We can take turns keeping watch,” Yasha offers quietly. Although her hair is matted to her face and her shawl is dripping wet, she seems just as unaffected by the weather as Jester.

Beau narrows her eyes but relents. “Gah, _fine_! I’m in! I can punch ghosts and shit anyway. Cap’n? O Captain my Captain? You coming?”

Fjord makes a terrible face and begins picking at his tusk until Jester reaches over and slaps his hand away. “Yes, I’ll go where I’m needed—but for the record, I don’t like this.”

“Yeah, yeah, you said that already,” Nott grumbles. “C’mon, you big baby. This weather is even worse than last time...at least back then we had…” she trails off, realizing her mistake, “...a cart.”

Caleb sees Beau and Yasha flinch out of the corner of his eye. Even after so many months, they still wear their loss like an open wound. He clears his throat. “We should get a move on while we still can.”

No one argues.

Even Caduceus remains silent, now familiar with the distinct shape of their pain.

Their trek up to the house is silent until they’re part-way up the hill and a few minutes from the building, which somehow appears even more ominous now than it did before. Staring up ahead at the house, Beau nudges Fjord. “Can you do your sense bad things thing?”

Fjord shakes his head. “Not until I rest, I’m afraid. I think we’re _all_ pretty tapped right now. But I don’t need the Wildmother’s guidance to tell you that this place is haunted as _shit_.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Beau mutters. “Hey, Caleb, can your dome thing keep out ghosts?”

“From above but not below,” Caleb replies.

Jester shrugs. “I mean, we’ve seen ghosts come out of walls and ceilings but never the ground, right? I’m sure we’ll be fine…” Her words trail off as they reach the entrance of the house. Even at first glance, it’s clear that it hasn’t been lived in for years if not decades. “Oh, good, at least we won’t be disturbing anyone?”

“Anyone alive,” Fjord mutters under his breath.

Still, they gather at the entrance and Caduceus tries knocking. Predictably, no one answers. Not wanting to do a perimeter check in such conditions, they decide to break in. The rotten wood gives away easily under Yasha’s strength and she steps back a little sheepishly with part of the door still in her hands. “I didn’t mean to break it.”

“I’m sure we can mend it in the morning,” Caduceus reassures her, stepping inside and casting light on the tip of his staff.

Brightness fills the room, and all around, there’s skittering, which has them standing back-to-back instinctively. Based on what they can see in the entrance hall, it’s clear that the house was once luxurious and extravagant beyond their current means. There are shelves lining the walls, most of their contents emptied by thieves or broken and worn down by time. There are empty frames hanging all around them, some of them still containing the frayed edges of canvas that had been carelessly cut out and taken.

In front of them, there’s a grand staircase that splits at the top and branches into open hallways that overlook the entrance hall. The stairs still look structurally sound for the most part, though much of the railing has fallen away. Even with Caduceus’ light, much of the second floor and interior rooms remain shrouded in darkness.

“We should set the dome as close to the entrance as possible,” Caleb mutters to himself, pulling out one of his books. Rather than casting the hut with himself as the anchor, he casts an echo copy of himself who goes about setting up the dome. “This way I can move about freely if I need to,” he explains when Beau arches a brow at him.

Ten minutes pass achingly slow with the feeling of eyes burning into them from all around, but eventually, the spell sets and the familiar sense of safety encompasses them. 

They do their best to dry their clothes around the small fire all while keeping an eye out around them. “I keep seeing things move by the back wall and upstairs,” Fjord mutters. “This place is bad news.”

“And here I was going to suggest we explore the house,” Beau says dryly.

“It’s just one night, you know?” Yasha tries, though she can’t help doing a sweeping glance every now and then either.

“Maybe we can take a look around in the morning,” Nott suggests. “I bet a place like this still has lots of nice things lying around!”

Fjord makes another face. “Like ghosts.”

“It’s certainly got that sort of feeling, doesn’t it?” Caduceus agrees serenely.

This time, Beau makes a face and starts rubbing her upper arm. “Well, shit, if our resident ghost expert’s saying that...just let me know what to punch, okay? Hey, Jester, did you hear what he just said?” She turns her head. “Jester? You’ve been really quiet. You okay?”

Jester nods, her attention solely on the cat sitting in her lap. “Hey, Cay-leb?”

“Ja?”

“Frumpkin’s been looking at the same spot since we got in here.”

The group goes silent as they follow the cat’s gaze up to the far corner of the second floor. The darkness persists but the feeling of being watched seems to intensify—something cold and hostile and not at all human. Fjord visibly shudders. “I’m starting to rethink sleeping outside.”

“It is just one night,” Caleb says, though he doesn’t do a good job keeping the uncertainty out of his voice. “They cannot get inside the dome.”

“Right. Just one night,” the half-orc repeats. “Look, I’ll take first watch...and maybe second watch too. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep in a place like this anyway.”

Nott nods and starts making herself comfortable. “Try not to wake us up with your screaming.”

“You know, I kind of think we should take watch in pairs. Just in case,” Beau suggests. Then she shrugs. “This place is getting to me too, okay? I’ll join you, Fjord. It’s just one night. Just one sleep and then we can get the hell out of here.”

Fjord dips his head jerkily, his eyes never leaving the second floor. “Yes, of course. It’ll be over before we know it.”

Still watching Frumpkin, Jester shakes her head. “I can take second watch, Fjord. You’ll need your sleep.”

Caleb opens his mouth to volunteer, but Nott beats him to it. “I’ll take second watch with you, Jester! I’ll shoot anything that moves!”

“Nott the Brave, you will stay in the dome?” he asks solemnly. “No scratching any midnight itches?”

The goblin spares the house another glance, her eyes shifting but not honing in on anything the way Frumpkin has and still is. “No scratching midnight itches, I promise, Caleb. Everything here’s probably rotten anyway...unless they’re metal or hidden...”

He arches a brow pointedly at her.

“Fine! No midnight scratches!” Nott concedes.

“Honestly, you’d probably be the one getting scratched if you wandered around this place,” Beau points out. 

“I will take third watch then,” Caleb offers quietly. He quickly shoots the monk a warning glance when he senses her about to make a comment.

Unfortunately, his attention was misdirected and Jester chimes in, “Oh, you get the witching hour shift!”

“Witching hour?” Yasha asks.

“I’m surprised you didn’t learn about it in the circus,” Fjord says and winces.

Another landmine.

Yasha pauses for a long moment and then shrugs, measured and deliberate. “It sounds familiar, but maybe they assumed it was common knowledge, you know? I don’t need to know what it is. I’ll take third watch with you, Caleb.”

He nods. “Danke. And Caduceus? Would you like one of us with you for the last watch?”

Caduceus smiles. “That’s a nice offer, Caleb, but I think I’ll be just fine, thank you.”

“You really aren’t afraid of ghosts and other spooks, are you?” Fjord mutters in awe.

The firbolg merely shrugs, his smile a little broader. “There isn’t much to be afraid of. Ghosts are just people.”

“And people are just tea,” Beau mutters. “I always thought _we_ were weird but here you are one upping us again.”

“Sometimes my competitive side takes over. It helps replenish my tea supply though,” Caduceus replies with a chuckle. Looking around at their wary stares, he then adds, “That was a joke.”

\--

With the watches sorted, the Mighty Nein spread out as much as they can in the little dome and do their best to sleep. And for the most part, sleep does come to them if only after a couple of jolts and scares.

There’s a soft tap on his shoulder that sends his eyes fluttering open. Sitting up, Caleb finds Nott standing in front of him. “Nothing strange happened?” he asks, his voice slurred with sleep.

Nott hesitates, which causes him blink and force himself to full alert. “I change my mind about this place,” she tells him, glancing up at the second floor. “I don’t like it. The sooner we leave the better.”

“Agreed. Did you see something?”

“I think so. There was something moving up there, but we couldn’t see what.” He’s about to suggest wild animals that also thought to find shelter for the night when she shakes her head. “Beau said she heard sounds upstairs during _her_ watch—_humming_ or something!”

Great. Swallowing hard, he reminds her, “You are safe in here. Try to get some sleep, Nott. We will leave first thing in the morning.”

She reluctantly agrees and goes to curl up by Jester while Caleb walks over to join Yasha by the fire. “Everyone’s scared,” she says, her voice hushed. “You can feel it too, right? The eyes.”

Now that he’s completely awake, it’s impossible to ignore the malice radiating from above, heavier and somehow even darker than before. He almost wishes he didn’t set his transmuter’s stone to darkvision. Whatever’s lurking upstairs, he’s probably better off never seeing. “If we are lucky, maybe it will only watch.”

“Let’s hope that’s the case,” Yasha replies. 

They sit in uneasy silence for a while, the darkness of the house seeming to engulf them. Shapes and shadows move in the corner of his vision and when he snaps Frumpkin into his arms, the cat offers him very little comfort—merely reorienting himself and continuing to watch the corner of the second floor unblinkingly.

After giving a slight start at the sound of scratching from above, Yasha narrows her eyes in the general direction and turns her attention back to him. She admits, “I remembered what the witching hour is.”

Caleb arches a brow, all too happy for the distraction. “Did you? It is merely stories to make sure children don’t stay up too late.”

“I wonder about that,” she says quietly. “Gustav and Desmond used to take turns telling us stories about ghosts and witches and whatever thing went bump in the night. Molly loved all of them.”

As quickly as it came, the happiness fades and the lump in his throat returns. “Ah, Mollymauk. Of course he did.”

The house around them goes noticeably still as the words leave his mouth. The two of them look about, unable to make anything distinct out through the darkness. In his arms, Frumpkin abruptly arches his back and hisses, his tail puffing up. “Frumpkin?”

Then, suddenly, Yasha stands up. “...no! Caleb, did you see? Did you see him!?”

He turns and follows her gaze toward the staircase only to find it empty. “See who?”

“No, wait—!” Without warning, Yasha takes off out of the dome, her eyes wide and filled with urgency.

“Yasha!” Caleb hisses, getting to his feet. He watches her bolt for the staircase and glances back, surprised to see everyone still asleep despite the noise. “Nott? Jester? Caduceus?”

No response.

Furrowing his brows, he glances over at his echo and finds it in place, still holding the dome up, unmoved by everything that’s happened. Satisfied, he brings Frumpkin up to his shoulder and runs after the woman.

Once outside the dome, the cold and oppressive feeling in the air immediately hits him. Even stronger than before, he feels nothing but anger and hatred aimed at him. A shiver runs down his spine and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. Caleb quickly utters a spell under his breath for protection and glances up.

Nothing.

But the feeling of eyes—of _spite_ doesn’t go away.

Swallowing hard, he starts up the stairs, each step more reluctant than the last. The wooden floor holds strong despite the creaking, and at the top, a cold breeze blows past him. He glances back down at the dome, still opaque and standing and safe. 

Suddenly, there’s scampering down the hall.

Whirling around, Caleb strains his vision, peering into the darkness. “Yasha?”

Slowly, he moves forward. As he leaves the open area and into the enclosed hallway, Frumpkin suddenly lets out a yowl and leaps off his shoulder, bolting down the corridor. He runs after his cat part-way down the hall but then suddenly feels eyes all around him again and freezes, not daring to move.

Something cold and damp brushes against his neck.

Hand flying up to cover the back of his neck, Caleb brings forth his lights and watches the shadows ooze away from behind him, thick and unnatural, accompanied by the sounds of skittering and thumping. Down the hall, he sees the fluttering of cloth as a figure turns the corner.

“Yasha?” Heart racing, he slowly follows after. Keeping three of his lights around him to keep the shadows away, he sends one ahead to light the path, walking until he comes to a corridor with branching paths.

There’s a soft gasp and a cry straight ahead and humming from behind.

He does another full turn and thinks he sees the glimmer of eyes watching from unlit corners and up above.

The crying gets louder.

Caleb’s about to follow the sound when movement to the right catches his eye.

This time, he catches a better glimpse of the cloth and its impossible patterns. Frowning, he turns and goes down the right hallway.

A door slams behind him and the crying shifts to laughter.

The malice in the air never fades.

He shouldn’t be here. He needs to get back to the others. He needs to find Yasha and bring her back and they need to _leave_.

Stopping for a moment to regain his bearings, Caleb inhales sharply and holds his breath when he hears dull footsteps approaching from the side—too light to be Yasha’s.

The footsteps get closer, one foot partially dragging on the wooden floor with every step.

It comes to a stop just out of reach from his lights.

Caleb tenses, eyes fixed on the ground just beyond his spell and pushes his lights out, inch by inch. 

Nothing.

And then a foot steps into view, rotting flesh and darkened nails, followed by a deep guttural groan.

Somewhere in the distance, the laughter turns back to sobbing.

A hand suddenly reaches into the light for him and he takes off running down the hall and deeper into the house. The tail end of a colourful coat turns a corner in front of him. Following suit, he does his best to ignore the pattering of footsteps behind him, giving chase.

He turns the corner and feels his stomach drop when he finds himself at a dead end with nothing but one final door in front of him. And in front of the door, Frumpkin is sitting there, tail flickering with agitation.

It’s only then that Caleb notices the footsteps have stopped.

Braving a glance back, the length of the hallway is empty but he can still feel dozens of eyes on him. Walking over, he picks his cat up and throws another look over his shoulder. 

A thick, unnatural darkness shrouds the corridor now, blocking his way back.

Taking what little comfort he can in his familiar’s closeness, he looks down at the doorknob and mutters, “The only way to go is in here, huh?”

Frumpkin is tense in his arms as he reaches forward and turns the knob.

The door swings open and Caleb freezes.

In front of him stands a familiar figure—an _impossible_ figure. Even with his back facing him, there’s no mistaking that coat or that tail or those horns. The darkness and the house momentarily forgotten, Caleb takes a step forward into the small, empty room and breathes, “Mollymauk?”

The figure visibly shudders.

“_Please...I’m so cold._”

Caleb takes another step. 

“_Please, I’m afraid…_”

“Afraid of what?” he asks gently.

“_It hurts...help! Please **help**. It’s so dark.”_

Another step and the lights are illuminating the coat now with all its intricate patterns and colours. All the things he never thought he’d see again. “How? How do I help? Mollymauk, can you turn around?”

“_It hurts…! Why is it so cold?_”

“Mollymauk, can you hear me?”

He takes another step forward and suddenly hears a sharp hiss in his ear, “_—**not me**! Look through the cat!”_

Caleb stops in his tracks.

“_...why aren’t you helping me? Will you leave me again?_”

There are soft cries coming from the figure now.

Narrowing his eyes, he glances down at his cat, who’s still sitting warily in his arms, eyes watching the figure, never turning away, never once blinking. Inhaling, Caleb withdraws his senses and channels his vision through his familiar’s eyes.

He nearly screams.

Rather than the back of Mollymauk Tealeaf, he sees the distorted form of a woman staring directly back at him, empty sockets where eyes should be and darkness pouring out from an unhinged jaw.

Caleb takes a step back, suddenly hyper-aware of just how _cold_ the room’s gotten.

The creature approaches, its mouth never moving even as words form.

“_Please...I’m so cold_.”

Although its form is ill-defined, he can see dark tendrils of hair hanging limply from a partially exposed scalp and long, distorted bony fingers reach out.

_“Please, I’m afraid_…”

The words begin looping and the ghastly form lets out a low, inhuman wail.

Returning to his own senses, he sends out a bolt of fire at the creature and _runs_.

There’s a piercing shriek behind him as he sprints back down the hallway, raising his arcane shield to fend off the other creatures. The doors slam open and shut as he passes and the floors begin to shake. Without looking back, he can tell the spirit is gaining ground.

Rounding a corner, he nearly goes flying to the ground when he runs into Yasha. She looks frantic. “Caleb!? What’s going on? Did you see—?”

“No time,” he interjects, “we have to get back _now_!”

They both turn around to see the creature come tearing down the corridor after him, arms outstretched, its angry wails unhinging its jaw further.

Yasha lets out a cry and yanks him back, pulling him down the hall back towards the staircase. As they go flying down the steps, he can hear familiar voices shouting from inside the dome.

“What the fuck are you two doing!?”

“Hurry up and get in here!”

“What the _fuck_ is that!?”

The two of them practically throw themselves into the dome just in time to see the creature slam itself into the wall of the dome. It shrieks and howls and claws at the side, screeching with anger. “Caleb, get us the fuck out of here!” Beau shouts.

“Ja, I’m on it!” Hands shaking, he pulls out a piece of chalk and drops to the ground and starts drawing the familiar pattern of the Bright Queen’s transportation circle.

The walls begin getting covered in darkness as other creatures begin piling on. Shadows seem to coat the outside of the dome. Bloodied hand prints smear across the surface, scratching and tapping. And then the faces begin appearing, one by one, each frozen mid-scream, detached eyes shifting, searching.

Caleb refuses to look up, counting down the seconds as he furiously draws.

Caduceus frowns and raises his staff, poking it out the dome. 

A flash of green light washes over them followed by a chorus of shrieks.

The shadows peel off the dome until all that’s left is the keening creature. It backs off for a moment, scowling at the dome. 

Chalk begins crumbling against the floor as he draws the final glyphs of the circle.

Outside, the creature’s jaw clicks, a sick, fleshy sound, and it lets out a piercing wail. 

They all wince and it takes all of his concentration to finish the circle even as his echo disappears, taking the dome with it. There are shouts as Caduceus and Nott suddenly fall prone, but he doesn’t have any attention to spare.

The creature charges at them, gnarled hands outstretched.

Connecting the last of the lines, the ground around them suddenly glows and a portal opens up. “Go!”

Not wasting any time, the Mighty Nein take their fallen and disappear through the rift. The last to go, Caleb chances a glance back as he leaps through the portal.

The last thing he sees are empty eye sockets, that gaping maw, and tendrils of darkness reaching for him.

And a bright flash of lavender.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s kneeling in a familiar chamber with the rest of the group. Jester busies herself bringing Caduceus and Nott back to their feet while Beau pulls him aside, still trying her best to catch her breath. “What the fuck were you thinking!?”

Yasha steps forward with her hands up in surrender. “No, it was my fault, Beau. I’m the one who left the dome first. Caleb, I’m sorry. I thought I saw—”

Caleb shakes his head and glances down the circle, mind replaying the previous minute over and over again. “I know. Me too,” he says, sending Frumpkin over to the distressed woman to comfort her.

“What? What could you’ve seen that would send you running through a haunted house like that?” Fjord asks, voicing his disapproval and curiosity in equal measure.

The two of them exchange weary looks and nod. “We should get back to the house first and get everyone patched up,” Yasha mutters. “We can tell you about it there.”

As they file out, taking up the rear, Caleb lingers behind in the room for a moment.

“Ah, good. You made it,” he says quietly with a smile. Raising a hand, he extends it to the shadowy figure lurking in the corner, facing the other way. “Come, we wouldn’t want to leave you behind again, Mollymauk.”

The figure doesn’t turn around.

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of horror fun for Halloween. Hope y'all have a safe one!


End file.
